


Of Gods and Kings and Broken Things

by skysonfire



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Contest Entry, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Loki - Freeform, Loki's Dirty Whispers Winter 2014 Fanfiction Contest, Loki/reader - Freeform, Marvel Universe, Norns - Freeform, Norse Mythology - Freeform, POV Loki, Smut, Smut with a Story, loki laufeyson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysonfire/pseuds/skysonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of "The Dark World," Loki, disguised as Odin, is reunited with a childhood confidant, who has taken her place as a Norn, determining the destiny of both gods and men. Hiding his identity, Loki realizes his true feelings for this woman who has undergone such a transformation since last he's seen her. Intelligent and cunning, like Loki, she calls out his secrets, which leads to an impromptu and unexpected encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Gods and Kings and Broken Things

As Loki approached the great banquet hall **,** he could feel a quickening in his chest. It had been a long time since he had seen her — at least, it felt like a very long time. Once he returned from The Dark World and assumed Odin’s throne under the illusion of the king himself, well, it was easy enough to play the game. Still, it was just that: easy — easier than he had expected and even trite. There were things that he sorely missed donned as Odin in all of his seriousness and stability. All of his droll planning and one-sided opinions delivered as beads of wisdom — all of his emotional harboring and insatiable mourning into the long nights. Those were not character traits natural to Loki and yet, he was unable to avoid them while dancing in Odin’s likeness. He enjoyed the ruling well enough, but he couldn’t help thinking that there was something he was missing, something that could make him feel less guarded and less, well, broken on the inside.

The dance had only truly begun, too — he had been king for less than one Midgardian year. He wondered how long he’d be able to keep on in his current state without taking a wrong turn, or better yet, disintegrating from complete boredom. As for the evening at hand, though, there was celebrating to be done and merriment to have. The realm was rounding the winter season and Winternights was a festival that certainly couldn’t be missed. Winternights was one of the many celebrations that Asgard shared with Midgard, and it marked the end of the summer season. Those closest to the divine were recognized for predicting the fates of mortals during Winternights, and thus, the capitol palace was descended upon by the Norns, larger and lesser, who were the mastheads of the celebration as they — each in her own way — determined the destiny of all those throughout the nine realms.

He had met with her briefly upon her arrival at the capitol palace a day earlier. She had been a ward of House Odin, and he and Thor had grown up in her midst. She had been close with both of the boys, but she shared Loki’s passion for magic and the pair had often spent long nights under Frigga’s tutelage, learning the greater mysteries, and practicing conjuration and casting. House Odin had a number of wards, which seemed a noble thing as Loki pondered the concept in his younger years. Now, it simply spoke to Odin’s affinity for things that weren’t his. He wondered if all of his wards had been lied to as Loki had.

Her face upon seeing Odin’s likeness though — it was full of light and trust. Loki had embraced her like he thought a father might embrace a daughter. He had even taken her face in his hand for a closer look with that one eye full of stoicism, but through his own guarded eyes he saw her like never before — a woman full of charisma, charm, beauty, intelligence, enchantment and even desire. The nature of his feelings for her was not a secret in his own heart. He had spent years of his young adult life lusting after her, but it wasn’t until he wore another’s skin that he was able to see for himself the woman she had become. He had wondered when he released her gaze if she had ever truly seen him as he saw her in that moment. Did she miss him? Had she grieved for him? He thought not. After all, she had left the day Thor had been named heir; the day she had left to guard and protect Yggdrasil and the lives of men, and the day that Loki had made a terrible choice. It was almost too much to bear. Loki had always left so many things unsaid, but those decisions were always calculated. In this case, however, he had waited until it had been too late. Regret was worse than any cell. It was a fact that he had learned in the hardest ways possible.

Whatever it was that coursed through him upon entering the banquet hall, well, it was palpable. Anticipation, perhaps, he couldn’t quite tell, but he knew that he wanted to see her again, this woman he had known as a young girl — this woman that knew him now only as the All-Father. Curiosity, was it? Intrigue? Whatever it was, it made him feel something, truly feel something, and that was a greater gift than even kingship. Another fact learned the hard way.

Loki was presented to the thousand faces in the great hall by a bellowing member of the court. He was met with respectful gazes and raised fists over hearts. It was all very formal and stuffy, and for the first time since his short rein had begun, he felt constrained under the weight of the shell that he wore. It was ironic really, to escape the embrace of a stationary prison only to enter into a mobile one.

He took his seat at the dais and reached for a large drinking horn filled with mead. Drink was something not best enjoyed in disguise. There was something about the effort spent by casting the illusion that made smell and taste numb to the caster. He took a long draw from the horn, however, and smiled at the bustling group before him, bathed in golden candlelight and lulled by singers, harpists, lyrists and, lur players. Norns, warriors and court members shifted up and down shining, worn wooden tables, and danced in their finest silks, light armor and fur wraps. It was truly a beautiful thing, and from his vantage point as king, he was able to enjoy Winternights in a unique and unpredictable way.

“All-Father.”

He turned his head quickly and met her eyes. It must have been the distraction of his own thoughts that had cloaked her approach, he assured himself.

“Sit, please.” He smiled at her and filled for her a pewter tankard with mead.

“If I may.” She paused. “It’s just so good to be here and to _see you_.” She emphasized her words and studied his face. Loki’s mouth went dry as her eyes penetrated him and searched. Suddenly he felt exposed and vulnerable. He snapped his eyes around the hall in search of an exit. It was all he could do to not take his leave – and swiftly.

“Your losses.” She hesitated. “I meant to come sooner, but I wasn’t sure if it was best.” Her voice trailed off, and he wondered what she had really meant. She wasn’t sure if it was best.

“Thank you, child.” He paused and chose his words carefully. “Frigga loved you dearly. I believe truly that she would be proud of the woman you’ve become. You are serving the people of Asgard well and keeping the realm safe. It is an admirable stance.” Loki took a drink from his horn.

“Yes, well, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice.” She took a drink from her tankard and set it down on the smooth wooden surface.

Despite the dry anxiety in his mouth and the palpitating of his heart, he beckoned her to continue. He needed to understand how much or how little of what she thought she knew.

“Say what you’ve come to say.” Loki touched her arm with a fatherly kindness that suggested admission was safe. She sighed and looked away as she spoke — off into the distance and into the stars in the night sky.

“Some Norns see the past and some see the future. Seeing the present and knowing whether or not events are right and wrong in those moments, it’s a completely different thing. You question yourself and you begin to feel like nothing is ever quite right.” She paused and studied Loki. He could do absolutely nothing but study her back.

“I’ve learned what is meant to happen in the present and what transpires in the future is one in the same. Our choices dictate who we truly are and what we become. The fate of the future cannot be seen without the present. It’s when we question our intentions that the visions become cloudy. We cannot hide from a thing that is going to be. We can try, of course, but eventually what is meant to be will come to pass or everything will fall into itself and the ties will be cut.” She paused and reached out for his hand. His ears buzzed and her tone changed from a feathery light cadence to a low, sultry hum.

“We die,” She took a breath. “Never knowing if our present choices are correct, but I can see them now.” She took a short drink from her tankard and squeezed Loki’s hand, her eyes piercing his own.

He could feel a thin sheen of moisture forming on the back of his neck and it forced him to swallow hard. She knew. It was unquestionable. She knew that the tired, grief-stricken, relic of a man in front of her was instead the blue-eyed, smiling, trickster of a man that she had once known. The same man who had grown with her, cried with her, and stolen from her an awkward kiss in the rain when she tried for the first time to disguise herself as scullion when the pair were apprentices studying illusion magic. He would have known her as anything.

Still, his magic had always grown faster and stronger than hers. He had been able to fool her before. There was no cause to believe with any kind of certainty that she had known all along, from the moment she set foot inside the capitol palace. Still, it was impossible not to translate her words and understand the look in her thoughtful eyes.

 _I know you, Loki. I’ve always known you._ The undertones of her words and movements suggested such a statement. In that instant, he felt that he owed her many admissions — maybe before it was too late this time. Maybe, but there was so much at risk, and he felt unwilling to compromise his position. Still, there was something tugging at him — a moment, a word, a breath. Something so small could change everything, everything that he had tried to achieve, or undo.

“And what is it that you are able to see so clearly after all of this introspection?” He smiled at her and squeezed her hand back confidently.

She narrowed her eyes a bit and smiled back at him before stroking gently between his knuckles with her thumb.

“Well, the rightful king of Asgard, of course.” Her smile deepened and Loki reflexively pulled his hand away from her own.

His head swam with her words and her tone and her fascinating face.

After a moment, he responded.

“I bid you enjoy your stay here at the palace for as long as you’d like. You are always an honored and respected guest here. Should you be in need, there is nothing I would deny you.” Loki rose from the table to take his leave.

“Thank you, All-Father. That is … so good to hear.” She relaxed into her high-backed chair and fondled the tankard in her hand. Loki took one last drink of her with his eyes before turning on his heel to exit the stuffy hall.

He made his way out onto the veranda with deliberate steps that suggested a cool confidence. He knew that on the exterior, he appeared as nothing but a vision of nobility and stability, but inside his mind his thoughts raced with her words so heavy with exposure, and her countenance, so laden with expression and intent. She had chosen all of her words so carefully to call him out just as silently as possible. She had always had a talent for language, and he found himself wanting her tongue to manipulate him in the same way it manipulated her words. She was always so deliberate — the way she touched her tankard, the way she moved her mouth, the way she flashed her eyes. The more Loki thought about it, the harder his manhood pressed against the taught leather of his breeches, and he leaned into the veranda’s iron railing to steady himself and distract his hands.

He exhaled steadily and strolled along the veranda a few paces, his hand running along the railing until he took a quick turn and made his way up a shadowed, curving stone stairwell.

His heart pounding from a sizable climb, he emerged alone out onto a cool marble expanse, which served as the palace’s outdoor summer terrace. Apart from a high, stained glass ceiling, the terrace’s sides were free and open to the air. At this time of year, the space was devoid of furnishings, and was shadowed with thick pillars that grew and shifted with the light thrown on them by a number of ornate, hanging lanterns. The only other light afforded the space was the natural flicker of thousands of stars that worked their way in and hung in the air so that the whole terrace seemed drenched in glimmer.

Loki rounded one of the thick pillars away from the staircase and slumped to the floor, allowing the outward illusion of Odin to fade into the night with a green glow. He ran his hands through his inky hair and placed his elbows on his knees, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. A night breeze caught him and he shuddered on the inside, full of exhaustion and want, yet confident with intention and anticipation.

 _The rightful king of Asgard._ Her voice hung in his ears. If she did know his true identity, he wanted her to believe her statement to be true. He wanted her to want him as her king, as their kingdom’s king. The idea of her recognizing him as such made him worry his lower lip and run his well-trimmed fingernails over his leather-clad thighs. She had given in to his kiss all those years ago when he was nothing more than a blundering novice. He wondered what she would give in to now that he was king. Perhaps it was too bold a thing to wonder, but he couldn’t keep his mind from it — the most honest pieces in him were filled with desire for her, and if he was the rightful king of Asgard, well, then how could he be denied his truest desire?

He sat for what seemed a long time, romping in his lustful thoughts of her — stroking her hair, smelling her scent, caressing her skin, feeling the draw of her mouth and tasting her sex. In his fantasies, he wanted her to beg for his control. He knew she would fight him, she would fight against her king, and that made him want to push her even harder. He wondered what her voice would sound like as she moaned and begged unrecognizably. It was so real in Loki’s mind and he was so hard at the thought of her that he grabbed at the bulge in his breeches just to play with the idea that it was her hand on him, enticing him and drawing him out. He hummed in his throat and imagined her impatient struggle for pleasure and what he would mouth into her ear:

**_[“I love to watch you struggle under my spell, and the more you gasp the harder I will push you until tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks.”](http://lokis-dirty-whispers.tumblr.com/post/67426265993/submission-i-love-to-watch-you-struggle-under-my) _ **

Loki’s fantasies were interrupted by a presence ascending the staircase across the terrace. He quickly reassumed Odin’s exterior and stood, stepping out from behind the pillar to meet what he expected to be a reveling wanderer. Instead, he was caught by surprise when she came around the corner and met his eyes. She approached him, but stopped yards away.

“Hello.” She said quietly.

“Say what you’ve come to say.” Loki replied, repeating his words from earlier.

Even though he was unable to predict her words, he could see an understanding in her eyes — an understanding that he had learned to interpret long ago.

“For how long does a game need to be played before a winner is declared.” She moved closer to him, her hips swaying desirously.

He beckoned her closer.

“Do you want to be the winner?” He asked, quietly.

She glided to him and stood inches away, and he imagined her seeing Odin looming before her.

She smiled intensely and raised her hand to touch his hair. He caught her wrist and held it there.

“Yes. I think I’d like to be the winner,” she paused and pressed against him. “Loki.” She breathed.

He grabbed her waist and turned her around so that her back was to him, and he pulled her close, holding her arms tightly in his hands. He could feel her stiffen.

[“ ** _Prove to me that you want it_**.”](http://lokis-dirty-whispers.tumblr.com/post/69136424806/submission-prove-to-me-that-you-want-it) He allowed her to hear his own voice as he exhaled lightly on her ear. She shuddered just a bit and he could hear air escape her lungs. He knew she was fighting the urge to open her eyes, so he let the disguise fall away before he spoke again. Almost immediately he could smell her skin — it was a heady balm that sent a surge through him that he was unable to control.

Loki turned her to face him and she put her hands on his smooth face. He noticed that her pupils were huge with desire, and without breaking her gaze he removed his bracers and pauldron, which he allowed to thoughtlessly clatter to the floor.

His lips parted slowly as though to speak, but his eyes held hers, and instead, he drenched her mouth with his own, forcing her lips open to receive his tongue and washing the cool slick of his saliva over and inside her. Breathless, she surrendered to his kiss, letting her tongue play on his and sucking gently at his lip before biting at him slightly as lust rose up his spine and tingled the back of his neck.

He pulled away from her to study her face, feeling the pressure her teeth had left on his lower lip, and he smiled deeply under her hand, while her eyes remained closed. It was a devious expression that transformed his sharp features into a perfect, mischievous mask filled with light, thought and passion.

“I know you. I know you.” Her voice was no more than an entranced whisper and she strained against a wanting pitch that threatened to escape from her throat. His eyes danced and played with her in the dim light of the terrace. They glimmered green and then blue before they resonated a dangerous darkness as he turned her into a shadow behind a thick marble pillar. He was not afraid to reveal himself to her, not anymore. He wanted to be the man she knew, the man she believed. Not a god or a king or a broken thing, but a man she had grown to understand over years of living and learning; over years of becoming and transforming, and over years of straining and hoping.

He held her close and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I don’t suppose you’re interested in my explanations,” his voice nothing more than a breath hanging in the wisps of hair around her face.

“Is that what you want to talk about? Your motives?” She reached her hands under his coat and dug at the leatherwork and laces on the sides of his snug body armor. He reacted and took her face in both his hands, his long fingers weaving into her hair and kneading slightly at her scalp.

“Yes, but right now I would rather talk you out of these silks.” He ran his right hand down her neck and over her bodice, pulling hard at the strings on her lightly armored corset. He always had a talent for words and tricks, and he couldn’t imagine that she was surprised that he wanted to use them. Modest was not a word that would be used to describe him, not even in their younger years when they spent the days and long, dark nights practicing magic. In that moment, though, he could tell that she wasn’t offended by the cocky behavior. She wanted him to lead her, to encourage her. She must have known that there would be truth in his words, heady with passion, and he wanted to give them to her so that she could know and understand what he really felt; his true desires unbound by obligation or agenda because she was giving him something that he wanted, something that he obviously craved. He was enticed, enraptured and drunk in the feeling she gave him. All Loki wanted to do was to feel her and watch her as she felt him back. He knew that a part of her fought against it — this was not at all the way she should act, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but the heat of her, and the next moment and then the one after that.

“Then talk.” She murmured; as she tilted her face up to him and pulled loose the knot that fastened the side of his tunic. His eyes darted cautiously around them before resting on her face, and she heard him suck in a slight breath as her fingers gave way the laces at his side and groped at the thin cotton beneath.

Loki moved her again around the column into an even darker corner and began methodically unlacing her bodice with his right hand while grabbing her thigh with his left, forcing his leg between hers and working the satin hem up her leg. His tall, lithe frame loomed over hers and he brought his mouth close to her lips. He could smell honey and mint on her, and his breath shook in just the tiniest way before he did as she bid him.

[“ ** _I will steal you away and hide you in shadow_**.”](http://lokis-dirty-whispers.tumblr.com/post/63405962860/submission-i-will-steal-you-away-hide-you-in) He touched her mouth with his lips and applied just the slightest pressure before continuing.

“Next,” he paused as he slid up her hem even farther, exposing her thigh and moving his long, thoughtful fingers up alongside her hip, tracing his way along her contours before looping his index finger through the delicate waist of her thin panties.

His heart thrummed in his ears and he could sense her pulse quicken as his hand hovered so close to where he could tell she wanted it. He touched the fabric of her panties lightly, drinking in how wet she was and how flushed her skin had become. He squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment against the anticipation and exhaled with just the slightest sound.

He moved his hand inside the thin silk and stroked her once to feel her heat. She sucked in a breath and watched him retract his hand and analyze the slick on his finger with a devious half smile that made her push her body into his leg to feel his pressure. He ran his tongue along his finger and watched her face as he tasted her.

“Next?” She asked, running her hand under his cotton shirt and feeling the cool dampness of his skin against her palm.

He paused before quickly reengaging his hand under her silks and forcing aside the wisp of fabric that hid her sex. Slowly, he slid his finger over her and leaned in toward her ear as he stroked at her throbbing heat. She was dripping and he wanted desperately to see her own fingers fondling herself, so that he could fully understand how much more intimately he understood her pleasure.

“Next, I’m going to ** _[strip you of dress and decency.”](http://lokis-dirty-whispers.tumblr.com/post/63405962860/submission-i-will-steal-you-away-hide-you-in)_** He pulled hard on her bodice until the laces gave way and it fell over her shoulders.

[“ ** _I will bring you to the point of begging_**.”](http://lokis-dirty-whispers.tumblr.com/post/63405962860/submission-i-will-steal-you-away-hide-you-in) She grabbed at the laces on his breeches and pulled forcefully until she could reach her hand inside the soft leather and feel the firm grip of his manhood. Despite herself, she moaned and Loki forced her jaw up with one hand and massaged her mouth passionately with his own.

[“ ** _I will stifle your shouts of ecstasy with my mouth, and hide you from the unsuspecting in these echoing, sacred halls_**.”](http://lokis-dirty-whispers.tumblr.com/post/63405962860/submission-i-will-steal-you-away-hide-you-in) His words were sensual growls that drove her desire, and she pulled him loose of his breeches, grasping him in long, drawn strides that made him yearn. She pushed back his tunic and his coat fell heavily on the floor. In response, he reached his hands up and pushed the silk shift off of her shoulders, where it fell to a glinting puddle on the marble floor next to his coat. In the darkness, he could still see her eyes drinking him in; working their way from his chest, to his waist, to his hard cock.

He shrugged out of his tunic to reveal his pale, smooth skin and the lean muscle underneath. She ran her hands up his chest and around his neck, through the back of his sleek hair. He kissed her again, more zealously, and pulled at her panties, which she kicked off of her ankles. He grabbed at her backside and she gently pushed him away to force him to look at her.

Breathless, she spoke softly. “I have no idea what the future holds for us, but … ” She ran her hand down his heaving chest and grabbed his cock. “Loki of Jötunheim will always be my true king.”

Before he could react, she descended to her knees and took him into her mouth. He grabbed at her hair and helped move her in time with his pleasure, all the while keeping his eyes locked on her face and relishing how his thick cock looked shimmering with her saliva — how her hand gripped its shaft and how her tongue methodically ran over its head.

Her mouth was like tight, wet velvet and he moaned into the night. Every inch of him, every fiber of his being wanted to take her. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to drive himself between her thighs and pump her until she screamed and cried out for him.

He enjoyed filling her mouth and watching her grappling hands. He was actually astonished at how hard his heart pounded, and before he lost complete control, he pulled his cock back and beckoned her to stand. Loki picked her up then and wrapped her around his waist. He pushed into her thigh, knelt down and placed her back on top of his coat.

“Is this what you want?” She ran her hands through his hair and pulled before pushing his breeches all the way down over his hips.

“You have to know.” His voice was gritty, and a cool sensation drifted off his lips.

He reached his right hand between her legs and toyed with her, pushing and pulling his fingers across her slick and watching her face as she squeezed her eyes shut and opened her pretty mouth to moan. The intensity of his dancing fingers forced her to grip at the leather of his coat, which was the only padding between her back and the cold marble of the terrace’s floor.

“There’s been no one else, Loki.” She whispered suddenly as she touched and guided his arm. A quiet moan gave away his composure, and he ran his tongue over her breasts and sucked at her erect nipples before pushing her legs farther apart and sliding down her body to allow his mouth to drift over her wetness.

She was not a Midgardian woman, this creature splayed before him. She was Asgardian, which meant that there was a warrior’s grit about her; a certain affection for physical pain. He tempered himself only slightly because she was untouched, but he understood her expectations. Her body wasn’t asking him to be gentle, and he had no plans to misplease her.

“No, but you’ve thought about this, about me.” He suggested. “Show me.” He rose up on his knees and took her hand, placing it over her heaving sex.

She flushed with a touch of embarrassment, but once she began to fondle herself all of her movements were natural. She watched him pump his cock in time with her forceful fingers and she ran her free hand over her face and down her chest.

He watched her for a short time and took immense satisfaction in the fact that he had been right about understanding her pleasure more intently than she understood it herself. Although she was experienced only alone, he admired her natural desire and drive, and he was experienced enough to know that he could blur the lines between pleasure and pain, and drive her to release that she had never felt.

Loki moved her hand away and tongued between her legs. Her moaning intensified and he gently slid his finger inside her. Her breath left her throat and at a quick glance he could have sworn that a mist hung in the air from its heat. She knew that she needed to be quiet, but he could tell it was all she could do from allowing the pleasure to escape her mouth.

Loki could sense her tensing muscles, fighting against the feeling that he was sparking in her, but it only prompted him to quicken his mouth and insert another finger.

She couldn’t take the stimulation any longer and she had no choice but to do as he bid her earlier.

“Please.” She yearned, breathlessly.

He withdrew and moved up her torso, running his lips along her neck.

“To the point of begging.” He said quietly, and firmly guided himself deep inside her. She lifted herself and leaned into his shoulder, trying not to cry out. He could feel the burning heat of her on his eager cock and her pelvic muscles tightened around him. Loki smoothed the hair back from her face and kissed her lips firmly. He watched her face as he withdrew a bit and then pushed back inside her. He knew that the slick that enabled him to move so freely was desire mixed with blood – her blood, and he was grateful for it because in a selfish way, he felt that it made her his.

Her moaning was uncontrolled then, and Loki covered her mouth with his own like he promised. He rocked her and gripped her thigh with his one hand, while his other hand braced himself on the cold marble to give him the leverage he needed to bring her to her moment of pleasure. She ran her mouth over his sharp jaw, but returned quickly to his lips as her desire rose. His mouth grew cold and he could see steam rising in the air before her, increasing in intensity each time his cool, Jötun mouth raked its way across her warm, Asgardian lips. It was torture. His pleasure was mounting and he almost didn’t seem to notice the frost in the air.

He heard her breathing become shorter while small sounds of pleasure escaped from her nose. He lifted her legs up over his shoulders and dug his hands into her backside. He could feel wetness covering her thighs and he drove into her repeatedly until he moaned in time with her.

“Do you want me to stop?” He whispered and toyed with her.

Her brow furrowed. “Gods, no. Don’t stop, don’t stop.” She grappled for his waist and continued to push herself against him.

All at once he felt her quiver and she dug at his back and closed her eyes. He lowered her legs and she lifted her back off the floor to meet his face and kiss him zealously. He quickly withdrew from her trembling and kiss and shuddering breaths.

[“ ** _Who do you belong to? Scream it for me_**.”](http://lokis-dirty-whispers.tumblr.com/post/53031545333/submission-who-do-you-belong-to-scream-it-for) He growled, pushing himself into her slowly and firmly, once, twice. A third time was all it took.

She tossed back her head where his hand caught it, and she called out his name without care for their surroundings. At that moment, he withdrew and spilled himself on her belly. It was an immense rush and he could barely hear his words through the quickening of the blood in his ears.

She held onto his sides and moaned quietly, her eyes rolling up toward the terrace’s high ceiling. Loki smirked and laughed a bit as he traced with his finger the runes for his name inside the creamy seed he had left behind. He studied her for a brief moment before assuming a dangerous seriousness. He glared into her eyes.

[“ ** _No other man shall ever touch you. Have I made myself clear?_** ”](http://lokis-dirty-whispers.tumblr.com/post/53052134115/submission-no-other-man-shall-ever-touch-you) He said quietly. “No one.”

She nodded and challenged his eyes before pitching her head back playfully and laughing with delight. It was clear that the element of control in their matching was not exclusive. He smiled deeply in spite of himself. Regardless of who he had become, he was glad that she was still the girl he remembered. She smiled back at him and her eyes suggested an understanding. There was nothing to explain, and it was all he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> I entered this piece to the winter 2014 fanfic contest, hosted by Loki's Dirty Whispers (http://lokis-dirty-whispers.tumblr.com). Although I complied with the guidelines for the contest, the piece is likely more plot heavy than they wanted. Also, the suggestive content is a bit less explicit than what I'm sure they considered winning material. 
> 
> Of note: Two of the five "Whispers" used in piece were written and submitted by me.
> 
> That being said, this entry is part of a larger piece, which is still in the works. I actually started it before the contest was even announced. Revisions and new installments will be posted as I move along.
> 
> Although I didn't win the contest, I am still rather proud of the piece. I like to think that I made some brave choices that may not have allowed me to win the day, but perhaps win the mods' and the readers' respect. 
> 
> With a humble bow, if you made it to the end, I certainly hope you enjoyed reading the piece as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Cheers, "RDP"


End file.
